


Buckshot Knights

by Moosebrawn



Series: Atlas [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Beth is nuts, Crazy Rick, Daryl and shane are friends, Is Shane hitting on Sophia?, Is he hitting on Daryl?, Multi, Shane isn't nuts, Sophia Lives, a little bit, determined daryl, probably not, separated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:09:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3384557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moosebrawn/pseuds/Moosebrawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're weak and scattered. Beth is stuck caring for three young children. Daryl and Sophia are struggling to support an injured Shane. Carl is watching his father's slow descent into madness.</p><p>Lori Grimes is alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows nothing but that her heart still beats.

They'd heard the shots. Each and every one of them.

They'd heard the shots and come running. Then they'd heard the groans and skidded to a halt.

A sea of walkers stood between them and home. A sea of death that Daryl was sure only separated them from more death.

But he thought of Beth, and of the glow that had come to surround her, and how it seemed to grow stronger each day. He thought of the cool angel of death that he often saw in her eyes, and of the glinting knife that was always, always,  _always_ strapped to her thin hips. He thought of her standing guard over them while they slept, teeth bared and stance restless as she defended her family.

He thought of Beth, and he knew she was alive. She was out there - somewhere - with blood on her hands. Daryl knew without knowing that she'd fought long and hard for her life, and that she'd done her level best to keep their family safe. He knew. He knew her, and he knew.

But the herd was still before them, and Daryl turned bitterly away from their burning home. There would be no rescue mission while walkers were still swarming the yard - He could try, and he would fail.

"What are you doing?" Shane demanded, catching Daryl by his arm.

"We have to go in there!" Sophia insisted, taking the other man's side.

"There's nothin' in there for us," he growled, anger and grief making his voice rough. "Nothin' but suicide."

"But the  _pack_ \- "

"Beth was in there," Daryl snapped, speaking over Sophia's indignant protest. "She did everything she could to get our pack  _out_. You know she did."

There were tears in the girl's eyes, and Daryl found himself unable to meet her shimmering gaze.

"Lilly," Shane breathed, and they both looked up at the grief crackling in the word. Daryl and Sophia both whipped around to see the woman in question shambling toward them. Sophia raised her bow, but Daryl quickly pushed it back down, hearing the woman speak words instead of hungry moans.

"I left them with Beth," she sobbed, falling into Shane's arms. "Meghan, Richy - I left them with Beth. I think they got out. You have to find them. They went..."

"We'll find them, baby," Shane soothed, petting Lilly's hair. "Hush, baby. We'll find them. We'll - "

"No," Lilly choked, shaking her head. "You have to... I..." She pulled away, gesturing helplessly to the bloody mess that was her ankle. Shane stared at her, uncomprehending. "It's a bite," she said softly, twining her fingers in his. "I was bitten, Shane."

Something twisted in Daryl's gut. Faces flashed behind his eyes - Lori, Asskicker - but he shut those thoughts away before they could take hold. Instead, he shuffled away from the conversation, Sophia trailing at his heels. Her small hand slipped into his, and he gripped it tightly for a moment before turning toward her and pulling her into a tight embrace. He would not let himself think of what he might have lost - but he was intensely grateful to have Sophia at his side.

And they'd find Beth. Or Beth would find them. He knew it.

He looked up, catching the tail-end of Shane and Lilly's conversation. "All dead. There was nothing we could do - they had a  _tank_."

"Hush, Lilly. Just rest for a minute."

And Lilly rested, the four of them looking out at the prison yard, flooded with dead bodies of both kinds. Every now and then, one got up and joined the rest of the staggering herd. They'd have to move, soon. It was a wonder no walkers had happened upon them already.

"Shane, we gotta - "

"I know," the other man said curtly, pulling Lilly's arm around his shoulder and helping her to limp toward the treeline - And Daryl didn't like bringing a corpse with them, but he knew what he would've done if it'd been one of his own instead of Lilly. So he didn't say anything. He just led them back the way they'd come, hoping they'd find some kind of shelter before nightfall. Sophia surged ahead to scout their path, but Shane and Lilly lagged behind.

"What happened to your arm?" he heard the woman gasp.

"Just a cut. Don't worry about me, alright?"

"It's a  _deep_ cut!"

"I'll be fine."

 

Miles away, Lori sagged against a tree, panting and exhausted. "Please, God," she begged, cradling her swollen belly. "Please, let them be alive. All of them. Please, God. Please, please, _please_."

She swiped at her brow and looked around, seeing only trees and sunlight. Right now, she needed to care for herself and the life growing within her. Asskicker was with Beth. Sophia and Daryl were far away from the whole mess. Carl had been with Rick and Glenn, the last she saw.  _She_ was the one that needed worrying over.

She still couldn't stop her thoughts from straying to her children, and to Daryl, as well. She knew that they'd be looking for each other, just as  _she_ was looking for  _them_. Should she stay close and risk being overrun by a herd, or travel farther out and risk being lost to them forever?

Still more pressing was the question of the child she was carrying. Would she be able to stay healthy enough to sustain them both while on her own? Lori didn't know. She squeezed her eyes shut and said one last prayer before soldiering on, deciding that the best thing to do was find a safe place to rest and gather her wits. Squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw, she picked a direction and began to walk, not knowing she was putting more distance between herself and her family.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short prologue to set the tone. More on what the others are up to coming up.


	2. Scattered

**Beth**

The mewling of a small child roused Beth from her fitful slumber. She reached blindly for Asskicker, much in the same way she used to reach for her alarm when it went off in the morning, but when her hand fell on the squirming baby, it was gentle and kind. "Hush, Asskicker, hush," she urged sleepily, drawing the child closer to her. But the baby did not stop crying, and after a moment, another more familiar wail echoed off the thin wooded walls.

Beth's eyes snapped open and landed at once on Ricky's pinched, red face. "Asskicker?" she said sharply, sitting up and looking toward the second cry. She was there at the other end of the short little room, squalling like the day she was born.

"What's wrong with them?" Meghan whimpered tearfully. Her hands were pressed over her ears, and her face was a flushed as her baby brothers. She'd been awake for quite some time, Beth realized, and so had Richy and Asskicker. How long had she let them cry? Feeling ashamed and overwhelmed, Beth cradled the infant in her arms and scooted toward her own young charge.

"They're hungry," she said softly, drawing Asskicker onto her lap.

"How do we feed them?"

It was a struggle to think over their continuing cries. Beth knew that Lori still breastfed Asskicker on occasion, but that Daryl was also in the habit of chewing up bits of dinner for her. If she could find any food at all, she supposed Asskicker would just have to get used to a diet without milk. Richy, on the other hand, was less than four months old. Beth wasn't sure she'd ever seen Lilly give him real food. She wasn't sure she should try.

"Maybe," Beth said hesitantly, her hand drifting to the buttons on her shirt. "Maybe I could...."

She was pregnant, and she  _knew_ her breasts had already grown. Was she producing milk yet? Beth didn't know the science behind it. She didn't know if it was a good idea to even try. But Richy would die if she couldn't find sustenance for him.

Beth unbuttoned her shirt and fumbled with the angry infant in her arms. It took mere seconds for him to realize what was happening and latch on - Beth winced at the feeling, remembering that Richy - much like Asskicker - had been born with two teeth already poking out of his pink gums. She ignored the pain, though, and watched anxiously as Richy suckled, unable to tell whether or not he was getting any milk. The baby seemed frustrated, and after several long minutes, he pushed away and began crying a fresh round of angry wails.

"It's not working," Beth murmured, wiping a tear off her cheek. "I still can't..."

Asskicker was still crying, as hungry as her brother, and  _Beth_ was hungry, not having eaten since dinner, the night before the attack.

Had it been only a few hours ago? Beth felt like they'd spent  _days_ rushing through the woods, chased by walkers and the sound of gunfire. They'd gone far past the hill where she'd planned on waiting out the fight - far past anything she knew. It'd been well past dark when Meghan pointed out the treehouse, and it'd taken all of Beth's strength to climb the narrow wooden ladder with Asskicker on her arm and Richy still strapped to her chest.

More tears gathered on her lashes as she thought of what she'd left behind. Was it safe to go back yet? Would it  _ever_ be safe, or was the prison lost forever?

There was only one way to find out.

Beth lowered Richy carefully onto the rough wooden floor, her eyes drifting to the trapdoor exit. Slowly, she buttoned up her shirt, the cries of the children drown out by her own thoughts.  _Can I leave them here while I run back and check? Would it be safer to take them with me?_ Walkers would hear the babies crying. At least up here, they would be safe from the undead. She doubted walkers could climb ladders, and even if they could, it was even less likely that one would be able to lift the trapdoor while maintaining his balance. And even if one  _could_ , there was a crate of old newspapers in the corner of the room. She could tell Meghan to put them over the trapdoor to weight it down - to only move it if she heard Beth calling her from below. They'd be safe enough.

"I have to leave for a little while," Beth said sternly, turning to the young girl and raising her voice to be heard over the cries. "I need you to stay here and watch your brother and Asskicker while I got and check on your mom, okay? I'll be  _right_ back, and it'll be faster if you can stay here with these two. Can you do that for me?"

"No," she said at once, shaking her head fiercly. "No, please, Beth - don't leave me alone!"

"It's only for a little while," she said, standing firm in her decision. She pushed herself to her feet and made sure her knife was still strapped to her hip. After a moment of hesitation, she unclipped it and handed it to the girl. "Here. If you need to use it, don't hesitate."

"Beth!" Meghan cried, grabbing onto her legs and clinging as tightly as she could. "You'll come back, right? Right back?"

"Of course. Right back," she replied, soothing Meghan the best she could. "Maybe even with your mom and Shane to take you back home." With that, she lifted the trapdoor and - after checking to make sure her surroundings were clear - began to climb down the ladder. "Put the crate over the door, okay?"

She heard Meghan's murmur of ascent and then the sound of metal scraping against wood. A few clunks followed, and then the only thing she heard were Richy and Asskicker's hungry cries. The sound frayed and grated at her nerves like nothing else, driving her to walk faster and faster as she moved back toward the prison. She was sure she'd seen baby formula in the pantry, but she hoped it wouldn't come to that. The rest of the inmates were probably sending out search parties for them. The fight was probably over, and Daryl would be waiting for her at the prison gates, Lori at his side. Sophia would be running toward her, no doubt, and the only reason she wouldn't tackle Beth to the ground would be the precious cargo she was carrying.

It would all be fine. Beth would lead them back to Asskicker and the others, and before they knew it, all this would be behind them. They'd have to move, of course. Find a new home, far away from this _G_ _overnor_  that was so determined to cause them harm. But they would be alright. They'd take to the road and find a new place, or perhaps lead the inmates back toward the Atlas Pack's winter home, up in the mountains where it was safe...

She spent the two-hour walk with these thoughts swimming in her head.

 

**Carl**

Rick and Carl Grimes paced side-by-side through the deserted streets of the small suburban neighborhood. Glen, Maggie, and Tara trailed behind them, speaking quietly among themselves. Carl couldn't hear exactly what they were talking about, but ominous snippets made it to his ears.

" - can't trust it anymore - "

" - think he still knows - "

" - Mags, he's not well - "

He tried his best to listen in, but he was also keeping his senses focused on the world around them - one wrong move could mean the death of them, and they'd already lost too many. Not that Carl had seen too many of their own go down. When he thought very hard about it, he remembered seeing a walker dig into Lilly's heel and a mangled body he was almost certain belonged to Hershel. But he knew they'd lost more than two. He knew it.

The others knew it, too. Carl may not have been able to hear all of their conversation, but he'd spent cold and hungry months with these people. Had bonded with them in the most desperate of times. He could feel their grief like a physical pain, heavy hearts beating in time with his own. They were the same.

So he knew what they were thinking. He was thinking it, himself, though he had tried his hardest not to.

" - someone should do something? We can't keep following him," Tara was saying, and Carl's heart ached because he knew she was right, and he would've loved to turn and scream at her. To tell her that his father knew best, was wise and powerful and their fearless leader. But she was right.

"Rick?" Maggie asked hesitantly, catching up and setting a gentle hand on his father's shoulder. Rick spun around, his mouth twisted into a fearsome snarl. Carl wished he was not afraid, but - try as he might - he could not convince himself that his father would never hurt him. He'd never mean to, of course. But they were right. He wasn't well. Was not in his right mind.

And they couldn't keep following him.

Maggie slowly drew her hand away, and Rick made to continue on, ignoring her continued efforts to capture his attention. "Rick, wait. Stop, please."

Carl didn't realize he'd stopped walking until Glenn passed by him, glancing over his shoulder in concern. "Dad," he called, finding his voice. Their leader stopped, but did not turn to face his son. "Were are we going?"

And now Rick turned, scrubbing at his untrimmed beard with an equally ragged hand. His eyes were wide, staring off at something Carl wasn't sure was there. The group watched as his mouth moved up and down, chewing on his words before they tumbled out. "We... gotta find him," he said at last, nodding resolutely. "Gotta find the bastard who did this to us. Who... he -  _Andrea_ \- "

"We have to find our family!" Maggie's voice rang out, causing all five of them to flinch. They waited a moment in fearful anticipation, but no walkers shambled out of the woodwork. Maggie went on. "I know you're upset, Rick, but right now - Jesus, you've been leading us in circles! Looking for  _him_? For revenge? Andrea could still be out there - a whole lot of us could still be out there. Let's go back, Rick. We have to go back."

Tara and Glenn were nodding in agreement, and Carl found himself wishing he could do the same.

"C'mon, Rick," Glenn said gently, not quite meeting the other man's stare.

Rick simply gazed at him, his mouth working once again. But no words came out this time, and his eyes were glazed and uncomprehending. He nodded once, twice, and then turned his back on his fellows, continuing in his chosen direction. The three of them exchanged careful, worried glances, discounting Carl as a nonentity. A child.

He discounted them in turn, and in turning, followed in his father's footsteps. he heard more hushed, urgent voices, and then the scuff of resigned feet. The trio followed after the father and son, allowing themselves - for the time being - to be led astray.

Rick and Carl Grimes paced side-by-side through the deserted streets of the small suburban neighborhood. Glen, Maggie, and Tara trailed behind them, speaking quietly among themselves. Carl couldn't hear exactly what they were talking about, but ominous snippets made it to his ears.

 

**Sophia**

The wind kicked up, lifting her hair and whipping through the forest around them. The scent of death rode high upon it, but she closed her eyes and searched under the first layer, and under the scent of old wood and dry grass that was ever-tickling at her nose. There was no trace of Beth, though her heart was tugging her in every direction, telling her nothing but  _search_ and  _please_ and  _find_. Those terms were important, true, but not exactly helpful. And neither was the wind, for all the good it had done her in the months since losing her mother and taking up with the pack.

Dejected, it set down her hair and settled in the trees, causing the canopy of leave and indignant shiver before all movement died down. Sophia paused for a moment, taking advantage of the sudden stillness in the woods. Little things stood out to her - a rotting log, a choking stream, the worn-down path of some small mammal.

She went to the log, first, and set her bow on the crumbling bark. Nestled against the log and stretching out to hug the creek's bank were clusters of plantain - a stubby green plant with broad, ribbed leaves. Beth had showed her how to recognize the plant, and that it was safe to eat and not too awful to taste when it's all you have to tide you over. She picked a few bundles but left the rest alone, thinking of Beth and Lori, and how they might come along this way with bellies empty of everything but their unborn children.

Next, she went to the stream and drank deeply, refilling her canteen while she was there. So low to the ground, it was impossible to keep her eyes from straying to the tracks. It would be easy enough to follow them off into the woods. Perhaps she'd be able to capture some meat for dinner.

But again, she thought of Beth and her knife.

Sophia turned and headed back to Daryl, snatching up her bow as she went. They'd hunt when they had to. The animal and its tracks would be left for whatever came after them - man or beast.

She was silent as she slipped through the trees, and so the two men did not immediately notice her approach. It wasn't until she was standing in front of them that Daryl looked up, his worried gaze meeting hers under heavily lidded eyes. Sophia's heart thudded, her gaze darting to Lilly as she convulsed on the forest floor. The bow protested as she gripped it more tightly in her sweaty hands, but Daryl stilled her with a nearly imperceptible twitch of his head.

They would not be putting Lilly out of her misery. Not yet.

With a soft sigh, she sat herself down beside that man - her brother? - and tried not to watch as Shane tried and failed to soothe the dying woman, stroking back her hair and wiping at her sweating brow. Her stomach churned. She fought back the urge to run from the scene.

Daryl's hand came down on hers, and his eyes were shaded and weary when he looked at her, searching for her state of mind. He didn't need words between them to see the unrest that was settled deep in her bones. She didn't need them to know that he shared it. It was a quick  _flick-flick-flick_ set of looks between them, and then Daryl looked quickly away, his eyes cutting to the pair.

"Shane," he said, his voice rumbling through the trees in a way that was more felt than heard.

"Not yet," he said sharply. Lilly was already shaking her head.

"Please," she rasped, sobs racking her body. "Please, it's time. It _hurts_."

Her stomach twisted again, and Sophia didn't need to be told twice when Daryl motioned for her to  _go_. She heard angry voices behind her, and then Shane's resigned sobs - but then she was far enough away that they were no more than a tickle at the back of her mind, and in the stillness of the woods she saw stalks of chicory and shepherd's purse, both plants that Beth had showed to her - had  _gifted_ to her.

"Oh, Moony." The lament was quickly taken up by the wind, which did it's level best to brush the tears from her cheeks.

Sophia wept.


	3. Cool in the Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She tries to count the days.

**Beth**

She had not been prepared for the devastation at the prison. The fences were torn down, the towers charred and crumbled. There was a hole in the wall that had turned the prison lobby to rubble.

And there were bodies. Bodies strewn across the yard, doll-like and still. Bodies eaten by fire and spat out blackened and twisted. Bodies that were no more than ruined piles of flesh. And, of course, bodies that had come back - gotten up and continued on in half-life, half-death. The walking dead.

Beth was no prepared that face it. When she came over the crest of the hill and saw smoke rising from the yard, she'd thought the inmates had won and were burning the bodies left behind. She'd hadn't expected to see this kind of loss, this kind of death. The prison had  _fallen_. Even if the inmates had survived, there was no coming back to this place. There could be no life within the fences because the fences were  _gone._ Everything was gone, and Beth doubted she'd find the others, anyway. How could anyone have escaped from this?

The stench of decay and burnt flesh was almost stronger than she could bear, but she went in, anyway. She dodged between walkers and darted into the lobby, careful not to trip over the concrete and rebar that littered the floor. The dead were still following her, but the minefield of debris kept them off of her heels. She had time to move slowly, examining the faces that were turned toward her. She recognized none of them, but saw familiar wounds in their heads. Rick's doing, Sasha's, and  _there,_ that was a mark from Lori's knife. So she had fought. Beth smiled wryly, her lips pressed tightly together to keep the taste of death from her tongue.

The kitchen was a mess - they'd had time to gather supplies. That pleased her, and it pleased her to find a bag open and half-full of supplies. She scooped it up and went toward the pantry, her lips turning down at the paltry state of it. She had to remind herself that everything that was  _not_ there was in the hands of the inmates, keeping  _them_ alive. The bag held precious little - crackers, some rice, tinned meat. The pantry held even less. Powder to make protein shakes, vitamins,  _baby formula_.

Beth took it all, leaving nothing but a bottle of cooking sherry.

Next, she went to the cell that her pack had shared - she took Asskicker's stuffed rabbit and shoved it into her bag, then contemplated the basket of clean laundry that Lori had brought in the day before the attack. She sorted through it until the clothes were in two piles - things that she and her charges could wear and things that they could not. If any of the pack came to investigate, they would have something to take, too.

That in mind, hunted out a charred piece of coal and wrote a message on the wall:  _Alive. Beth, Asskicker, Richy, Meghan._

She thought about giving them directions to the treehouse, but the risk was too great. Daryl would find her with or without instruction, and she didn't want to advertise her location to any strangers that might happen across her message. Just their names would do.

Beth dusted off her hands and shouldered her bag, picking up a few more personal items. Her music box, a notebook, some pens and pencils. In Lilly and Shane's cell, she found a few changes of clothes for Meghan and a box of diapers for Ricky. She filled the bag the rest of the way with those, her mind now back on the young children she'd left in the woods. How long would the diapers last them? And the formula? There had only been two cans of it. They hadn't seemed very big.

But her musings stopped when she came back into the lobby, and she was in survival mode once again. A new knife was in her hand, but she did her best to keep it clean - it was good to fell the walkers, but it was better to never come into contact with them at all. So she dodged between them again, only dirtying the blade when she stopped to write her message again, this time on the outside of the prison, where Daryl was more likely to come across it. She'd have to check back again in time, to see if he'd seen it and replied.

They would be alright. Beth knew it. She just had to keep them all safe and fed until the pack found her. It shouldn't be too difficult in the treehouse. They would be alright.

The trek back to the treehouse took much longer than the walk to the prison. She was weighted down by the heavy bags, tired and thirsty and now realizing that she was much hungrier than she'd thought. But soon enough, she heard the sad, mewling cries of her charges, rough and tired from their day of complaining.  _Poor babies,_  Beth thought, her pace quickening as she turned toward the sound.

She should've expected to find what she did. There was a small herd clamoring around the trunk of the tree, and Meghan's white face was poking out the small window. No walkers had made it up the ladder - but that was really the least of her concerns. The children were safe, but they were also stuck. Beth could not fight through two-dozen walkers. She'd have to lure them away and circle back. Somehow.

Beth moved as close as she dared and set the bags down by a tree. Then,

"Hey! Over here! Live meat!" she hollered, waving her arms and kicking at the dead leaves strewn all over the forest floor - and  _fall, autumn, cold_  whispered threateningly in her ear, but there was really nothing she could do about that. "Come and get me! Yeah, c'mon! Follow me! C'mon, walkers! This way!"

And they followed - most of them, Beth thought. She took off through the trees, thinking that she couldn't go on like this, couldn't keep running for her life when she was barely making it as it was. Couldn't be good for the baby, couldn't -

But there were more pressing things to attend to. She lept over a tree branch, gritting her teeth in triumph as she heard the tripping behind her. She turned, making a wide arc and circling back to the clearing where the babies were still howling, where Meghan was now waving her arms, excited to see Beth once more. Four walkers were still crowded around the ladder, but that wasn't too many for Beth - not yet. She cut them down and returned to her bags, and dragging them up the ladder almost defeated her, but she lived on.

"You're back!" Meghan cried, real tears streaming down her cheeks. The smell of urine was strong and unpleasant as she threw her arms around Beth's legs, but she'd smelled death and fire, today, and it wasn't Meghan's fault that they had no restroom, here.

Beth dug through her bag and produced a fresh set of clothes for the girl, plus a tin of anchovies for them to share. Asskicker got a few crackers to tide her over while Beth got Richy's meal ready. "Here, baby," she cooed, setting the bottle against his lips. His response was immediate, and Beth smiled as he drank. A feeling bloomed within her, not dissimilar to the feelings she'd had when she'd first held Asskicker in her arms. "I've got you, little dagger-tooth. You're not gonna go hungry anymore."

Finally fed, the two youngest quickly dropped off into sleep. With a little coaxing, Beth lured Meghan down to the forest below and enlisted her help in moving the walker bodies a bit further away. Then Beth kept watch while Meghan washed herself in a little creek, and a bit farther upstream, they refilled their canteens and picked plantain leaves from a carpet of green, not knowing that Sophia was doing the same just a few miles down the same waterway.

 

**Sophia**

 

She was never going to be a bulky person. Her frame was small and fey, just like her mother's, and her new life of hunger and running and sleepless nights ensured that she would never grow to her full potential. So she was father-light compared to then men she traveled with. Laughably small between Shane and Daryl, who had also shed pounds in the new world.

Under normal circumstances, she would not have been able to restrain him. Most day, he could've flicked her away like a gnat. But this was not most days, and Shane could barely lift his arm - never mind even trying, with her sitting on his chest.

"Just a bit more," she whispered, wiping a dark lock of curly hair off of his forehead. She could feel the heat of his skin on her fingertips, and radiating from his chest and onto the insides of her thighs. He was burning up with fever, sweating out all the liquid they'd managed to get into him since they'd woken this morning to find him  _sick_. And it wasn't the kind of fever that came from a bite - but it might kill him all the same, and the dead liked to Get Up whether or not they'd been bitten, as it turned out. "Just a bit more," she repeated, digging her knee into his arm as he jerked violently underneath her.

"Keep him still," Daryl growled, still bent over Shane's injured shoulder. He was dabbing at the whitish pus that had gathered under the bandage overnight, pale and grave and tight-eyed.

Shane lifted his head to glare at the other man, but the exertion appeared to be too much for him. Sophia saw a tendon jumping in his neck, and a moment later, he let his head fall back onto the forest floor. "Hurry up," he grunted, trying to twist out from underneath her. She smiled at the string of curses that poured out of his mouth, pretending not to see the watering in his eyes.

"Almost done," she assured him, hoping she was telling the truth.

"Scout cried less when she snapped her ankle," Daryl muttered darkly, sitting back with an air of finality. "Quit your whimperin'. M'done."

Sophia helped the man to sit up and began redressing his wound, worrying after the startling red of his skin. She dabbed plantain poultice over the inflamed gash, holding her breath because it felt as though even breathing on it would cause him more pain. As careful as she was trying to be, every little touch seemed to make his skin crawl with more pain. "Sorry," she breathed, leaning away from him when his arm was finally wrapped in a clean, white bandage.

"We gotta move," Daryl said, peering through the trees.

"Nothing's around," Sophia murmured, jumping up all the same. Had she missed something?

"Not yet."

Shane groaned. "Just lemme rest for a minute. Then we'll go."

The man seemed content with that, though it didn't keep him from pacing the clearing they were in. It was a relatively defensible spot, which was why they'd chosen to stay the night there. The trees grew in wall-like clusters that would make it difficult for walkers to sneak up on them. Still, it wasn't much in the way of shelter - Sophia had thought of velociraptors when they'd constructed their dirt and dead-leaf nests the night before. They were somewhat protected from predators, but not at all from the elements. They couldn't stay there.

But it became increasingly clear that Shane wasn't going anywhere. He was shaking violently, a sheen of sweat on his paling face, and his eyes were drooping closed, his chin brushing his chest -

After a while, Daryl heaved a resigned sigh and set down his crossbow. "Start a fire, Scout," he said, moving toward Shane and lowering himself to the ground. He shuffled closer still, until his arm was pressed against Shane and they were nearly hip-to-hip, leaning against the wide-rough tree-trunk. His eyes flicked up to hers in a look that had more than enough  _Keep your eyes peeled_ and  _Don't you dare say a word_ to keep her from examining the pair too closely. She understood, of course, that Shane needed to be kept comfortable. Daryl was practical when it came to things like that. If one of the pack needed warmth, he'd always been obliged to give it. Lori had been the cold one, most often. But they'd all sought him out at some point.

"She must be lonely," Sophia murmured, her back to the men as she scanned the forest. "Lori, I mean. Without Asskicker or any of us."

"Might be with... with Beth," he replied, hesitating over the name.

Sophia thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No. They're not together." Another pause. "She's alone. Lori. All alone."

Daryl made a small, dissatisfied sound under his breath, causing Shane to flinch and snuffle in his half-slumber. They waited a beat, making sure he was not going to keel over. With a tired huff, Daryl rubbed at the back of his neck, blinking up at the canopy and the weak sunlight that filtered through to them. "Reckon we're safe enough," he muttered, looking back down at his lap.

Sophia was quick to abandon her post, instead curling up on Daryl's other side.

"We'll find them," she assured him, leaning her head on his arm. "Just wait. We'll head out tomorrow and probably come across them within a couple of hours."

But they did not leave the next morning.


	4. Fairy Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wishes she could fly.

**Lori**

Sometimes she stumbles.

It isn't hard and it isn't often, but a thrill of real fear goes through her every time. Her cheeks are tight with dried-up tears, and she wipes at her nose again as she regains her balance. Seems like everywhere she goes, there's another twisted root waiting to catch her foot. She's gotten so good about avoiding them since their flight from the farm, but they still get her from time to time. Pregnancy has only made her clumsier - she can't see her feet, can't see what she needs to avoid.

Her worst fear is falling. She can outrun walkers, kill them if need be. But if she falls, she'll be vulnerable. Be small and weak. And if she falls on her belly...

She tries not to think about that, but that's just the kind of woman she is. Her mind always runs to the worst possibility, always to the most tragic future imaginable. It'd made living in this new world quite the trial, but she supposed life had always been that way. A trial.

The pack had eased that. She'd lost everything, but they became her whole world. Her babies, her Daryl, her role as mother and matriarch. It'd given her a purpose that forced all other thoughts out of her mind. When she was caring for the pack, she had no time to be gloomy, no time to worry. And now that they were gone, it was all coming back. She'd tried so hard to just focus on finding them. She'd filled her head with thoughts of strategy. Thinking like Beth, like Scout, like Daryl. If she could put herself in their minds, she might be able to find one of them.

In the end, though, it did little good. She had little bearing of where she was, let alone where her pack would go. If there was going to be any finding going on, it would be done by one of them, and not by her. So, for a while, she resigned herself to waiting. She'd stopped right in her tracks, sat down on a log, and waited. After all, Daryl could be on her trail at that very moment. What if she was walking away from him? Mixing her tracks with a walker's, going through somewhere he couldn't pick up her footprints. So she sat still and waited, all the while knowing that walkers were just as likely to find her as Daryl.

When she heard the first growl, she stood and took her leave, thinking miserably of their time in Winter Home. Everything had been so perfect there. If they'd never left...

Slowly, an idea began to grow in her head. Where would the pack look for each other if they were separated? Not at the newly-destroyed prison. Not in the woods. No, if they were completely separated with no way of finding each other, she knew exactly where Daryl would want them to go. Back to the place where the pack truly began - home. Winter Home.

With a new purpose, Lori continued picking her way through the trees, now sure of her destination. Part of her worried - would she make it? Could she find it again? Would the others really know to go there? But the questions were only echoes in the back of her mind. She had a purpose again, and maybe not the promise, but the  _possibility_ of seeing her pack again. It was enough.

 

 

**Beth**

The climb only gets harder. Every time. Are her arms getting weaker, the ladder longer, or her burden heavier? Beth tends to think it's all three, but she still climbs. It's the only way in-and-out of the treehouse, and she's not about to move camps just because of a little climb. Despite everything, it's  _safe_. Safe for the squalling children and safe for long, well-deserved naps.

But they always need something - food, blankets, more food - and the climb kills her a little more every single time.

"He won't stop crying," said Meghan as Beth kicked the trapdoor slam. "I gave him his bottle and he drank it all up but he's still crying. He isn't poopy or anything! I don't know what to do!"

Her panicked voice grated on Beth's nerves nearly as much as Richy's irate screams.

"Give it to me," she growled, snatching the baby away from his sister. She cradled him close to her chest and tried to settle him in her arms, but he struggled against her with more strength than any baby should have. With a tired sigh, she sat down with him, sitting cross-legged on the floor and simply letting the child do as he pleased. She looked to Asskicker, who was chewing fussily on her stuffed rabbit. Despite the hard situation they were in and the absence of her family, the little girl had been crying surprisingly little. After the first day, that is.

Richy, on the other hand, only got louder. It seemed the only thing that comforted him was nursing, even though he hadn't gotten milk that way in over a week. Beth looked down at Richy, her eyes softening. Did he miss his mother? Could babies think and feel those things? She certainly missed Lori, missed Sophia. Daryl.

"Alright, Dagger-tooth," she sighed, tugging down her tank-top. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he needed little direction. He nosed impatiently at her breast for a moment before latching on, causing Beth to wince, as always. It only seemed to get more painful, but it was worth quieting his cries. She did have mixed feelings about it, though. Sometimes she felt guilty, thinking that Lilly wouldn't want her son nursing from anyone else. Especially when she had formula - though there really was a precious little. She hoped - hoped and worried - that if Richy continued to suckle, she might start to produce milk.

That was really the only way Richy would survive. The thought frightened her more than she liked to admit. Her arms tightened around him as she thought of him starving to death, and of what would come after. "I've got you, baby," she whispered to him, as she often did at these times.

Asskicker crawled over, cooing at her as she did. The baby girl often expressed interest in the act of breastfeeding, clearly wondering when Lori would come and feed her. But Beth was feeding her a portion of their solid food at mealtimes, and as often in between as their rations would allow. Along with what she had scavenged from the prison, she had also set up a few traps down below. Rarely, she checked them before the walkers stole whatever they'd caught. But it was enough to live by, and presently, they had a quarter of a smoked rabbit still standing by for dinner. The traps had all been empty when she'd checked them a few moments before, but she'd reset them all and killed off any walkers nearby. If she checked before bed, they might have some meat for breakfast tomorrow.

"Are you hungry, baby?" Beth cooed, reaching out to stroke Asskicker's tangled hair. "You know you're a big girl now. You gotta eat big girl food."

"Bee bee!" she declared, banging her rabbit on the wooded floor.

"Bee bee? Big Bear? He'll be here soon, baby. Just be patient."

"Bee! Bee bee!"

It was a common argument. Beth simply went back to looking down at Richy, smiling at his red, scrunched-up face.

"How long have we been up here?" Meghan asked softly. Beth glanced at the girl, who was staring gloomily out the window.

"Twelve days," she replied after a moment, counting them off in her head.

"How much longer are we going to stay up here?" she asked.

She asked herself that same question every day. Would Daryl ever find them? Would she ever be able to leave Richy and the girls to search for him herself? She didn't have any answers, and the more she thought about it, the more frustrated she got. It seemed quite possible to her that they would  _never_ leave - not until Asskicker was old enough to walk and Richy stopped crying every second of the day. That day seemed far-off, out of sight and even the realm of possibility.

"I don't know," she said quietly, tears prickling in her eyes. She swiped them angrily away, turning her head to face the opposite wall.

"I miss my mom and Shane," Meghan said.

Beth missed her family, too. She held out her arm to the young girl. "Come here, Bunny," she said. "Don't think about that. Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a magical castle in the air..."

In her mind, Daryl was telling the story, and she was sitting in the den at Winter Home, tangled up with Sophia and with her head on Lori's lap. Beth closed her eyes and smiled as she spoke, letting the story unravel exactly as he had, but still thinking he was much better at spinning these tales. Even with all the same princes and princesses, all the same action, all the same words, she could never quite create the kind of magic that Daryl did in his stories.

But Meghan liked them well enough, and drifted off to sleep before long, her mouth slack and dribbling drool on Beth's sweatpants. Richy, too, was dozing lightly, and Asskicker still nibbling quietly on her rabbit's ear. They were safe, warm, and fed.

"We'll be okay," she said to herself, quiet so she didn't wake the kids. "We're fine."

But the words sounded hollow even to her, and she hated the walls around her. The too-tall climb. The walkers that gathered below. The were surviving, but little more than that. She knew that Meghan especially could not continue to live in this box, and that the longer they stayed, the more miserable they would become. The more tired. The more vulnerable.

Tomorrow, she decided. Tomorrow, she would look for a new place to stay.

 

**Sophia**

Daryl had not been a tactile person before the pack. Sophia knew this very well - she had been the first to seek out his touch, and the first to be rejected. But persistence paid off, and by the time the rest of the pack came along, he was familiar enough with her curling up beside him in the night. When Lori began to do it as well, it took only a few tries before he stopped bristling and simple accepted it. Beth was a similar story, although - and Sophia smiled when she remember this - he had never been quite as comfortable with her touch until he realized she wanted to touch him the same way he wanted her.

So she wasn't very surprised when Shane ended up in their pile most nights. Sophia still remembered Shane from the quarry camp, from the farm. She'd always known him to be a very physical person, whether in violence or in affection, and that clearly hadn't changed. He fit in with them, the way he'd press his shoulder against Daryl's when they sat near the fire. It was a pack gesture of  _warm, love, together._

She had already decided that he belonged to them. She'd cared for him through his three hellish nights of fever, nursed him back to health in the aftermath. Tended his wound daily, twice-daily when needed. She'd invested too much in this man to let him die, and she supposed that was a kind of love. Perhaps not what she felt for the rest of her pack, but enough to count him as hers.

So when they went to sleep, she slept between them, and in the morning they would awake knit together like a scarf, the blanket thrown haphazardly to the side. She didn't think too much about it - only enough to determine that she was not at all surprised.

"We have to get out of here," Shane muttered to Daryl, sipping his watery hot-cocoa. It was still morning. Still damp. Sophia sat by the tiny window, looking out over Beth's farm. They were in the attic, where she and Asskicker had hidden while those men -

"We ain't leavin' yet," Daryl seethed. Whatever their sleeping arrangements might say, the two still had plenty of disagreements. "Beth will come here."

 _If she can_ , Sophia thinks to herself. And she can't. Somehow, she knows that she can't. And Lori - Lori was somewhere else. Sophia had a feeling she could find her, but what she had of the pack right now was currently immobile.

"'Sides," Daryl said, his voice low and worried. "Y'ain't quite a'hunurd percent yet."

He was not. Shane had trouble moving his whole left side, let alone his arm. They couldn't take him anywhere, and they certainly couldn't leave him.

"I'm fine," Shane said stiffly, but his lack of argument belied the truth. Sophia shook her head wryly and gathered up the blanket from the musty attic floor.

"You're hurt," she said softly, settling the blanket around his shoulders and then ducking under his arm. He squirmed away from her, his face going decidedly blank. "You need to rest up and get your strength back. When you're better, we can go and find our family. But you have to get better first." She continued talking in a low, soothing voice. Slowly, he relaxed against her, finally releasing the last of his tension with a heavy sigh. Despite how easily he leaned into Daryl, he never seemed quite comfortable with her touch. But Daryl had been that way, too. He would learn.

The morning languished, dragging the sun into the sky. It's light shone dimly though the dilapidated roof, casting odd shadows on Daryl's tired face. He looked older than ever, sitting there in front of her. Tired and defeated. Small. _  
_

 _If Beth were here, she'd sing for him_ , she mused, thinking longingly of her friend.  _She'd sing and make it all better. But then, if Beth were here... he wouldn't look this way in the first place_.

Sophia looked out over the trees, knowing Beth was hidden somewhere within.  _Somewhere_. She knew if she could only get out there, she could find her. Find all of them. All she had to do was get out in the trees. Avoid the walkers. Keep and eye on Shane. Look out for Daryl. Stay hidden, find food, seek shelter at night.

Some nights, she thought about sneaking off alone. Alone, she would have little to worry about. She was small and quick. She could avoid anything she needed to, as long as she was on her own. She'd probably find Beth within a few days. If she needed to, she'd leave her for the night and bring Daryl back to help her to their current den, but Sophia was sure Beth could make the journey without too much assistance. She just needed to go out there and  _find_ her.

But she knew Daryl would never let her go alone. It was not that he didn't think she could do it. Sophia knew Daryl had the utmost confidence in her. But he'd lost too much too quickly, and his only solace was guarding her with everything he had. She knew that he stayed up at night to watch them sleep, still curled up in their tangle of limbs, but with his eyes half-open to make sure she was still breathing. There was little else he could do to stay busy, with a pantry full of food below them and a warm, dry place to sleep right upstairs. It was the same reason Sophia constantly hovered over Shane, doing her best to keep busy, stay useful.

They were both going stir-crazy. Growing heartsick.

Sophia kept her eyes on the trees, watching a flock of crows take flight in the distance. She wondered if it was some stray walker disturbing them. She wondered if it was Beth.


	5. Bed Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She thinks about how somewhere, probably very close by, her pack might be watching the same storm.

**Sophia**

"He's been gone a while," Shane said, practically vibrating with anxiety. "Don't know why he had to go and hunt. There's enough food to - "

"He'll be back," Sophia said shortly, pulling the quilt tighter around her. "He just had to get out of the house."

"That's a stupid reason to get himself killed."

She doesn't have an answer to that, mostly because it's a stupid comment, and partly because she agrees. But Daryl isn't dead - she knows this the same way she knows Lori is alone - and she doesn't believe he will be any time soon. She just settles into a more comfortable position and regards the man before her, taking interest in the way he immediately tenses up, drops his gaze almost submissively to the floor.

"How come you always act like that around me?" she asked, taking advantage of their solitude. Intuition tells her that he won't answer while Daryl's around. Not truthfully, anyway. She still wasn't sure he'd answer, but if she nettles just right, she thinks she can get him to talk.

"Like what?" he demanded, decidedly  _not_ shifting under her gaze.

She has to think about it for a moment. "You freeze up," she said at last, not quite sure how to word it. "Close yourself off."

He stared at her for a long moment. "You're not a little girl anymore, Sophia," he said slowly. "I don't like you cuddling up to me. You're getting too old for that. I don't care what Dixon thinks - it ain't right."

She thinks that he's right. She's not a little girl anymore. But neither is Lori, and neither is Beth, and they both still sleep in the pile, sit close at breakfast, slot themselves together in whatever den they've made for themselves. And neither is Shane a little girl, but he'll still sit shoulder-to-shoulder with Daryl. She doesn't quite understand what he's saying, but she  _thinks_ -

She thinks about Daryl, and how he would accept any touch but Beth's, simply because he wanted it. Somehow, she doubted this was the same situation.

"I think that's stupid," she decided, standing and moving to sit beside him. She draped her quilt over him as well, ignoring his exasperated sigh. "You cuddle Daryl all the time."

"I don't  _cuddle_ anyone," he said heatedly, leaning away from her.

"You certainly do," she replied. "And you sleep with us every night."

He didn't have an answer to that. He simply gave another huff and allowed her to rest her cheek against his arm, both their heads lolling back against the wall. Sophia stared out the window while Shane closed his eyes, thinking that maybe she shouldn't press him, if he didn't want to be touched. But when she thought about leaving him all alone, her stomach twisted uncomfortably. He was still weak, she decided, and still in need of comfort. She would stay close whether he liked it or not.

Besides. The weather was turning, had been getting colder all day. The clouds in the sky spoke of rain and thunder, and her mother - her  _real_ mother - always used to sit with her during storms. They'd bring some blankets into the living room and watch through the big, bay window. It was just what you did during a storm.

Hopefully, Daryl would be back before the sky fell down.

 

**Lori**

Lori was nowhere near the storm. She was past it, at the base of a tall mountain, tears flowing down her cheeks as she watched dark clouds gather from whence she came. She felt like a bird, all of the sudden. Like a bird or a god or something that can see the whole world spread out underneath them, malleable and un-confused. She reached out her hands and tries to scoop up the clouds, but she must be doing it wrong. Her hands are still empty, and lightning still flashes in the distance.

Atlas, she decides. she feels like Atlas, with the world on her back. She wonders if Daryl ever feels the same way, or if he's as simple as he'd always led them to believe. But that idea is discounted almost at once - there is nothing simple about Daryl.

She turns away from the storm, her eyes climbing the mountain that her body will soon have to surpass. Mountain home is high above her, hidden on the blue side of the mountain. Safe. Her heart aches when she thinks about it, and about the memories they've shared there. Perhaps one of them will be there - but she doubts it. She knows, somehow, that her pack is in the storm, weathering another night without her to press her hand to their foreheads, kiss their cold noses, stroke their messy hair. She wonders if they miss her, and then scoffs at her own silliness.

Of course they miss her.

Lori began the ascent with a sad smile on her face, content in the knowledge that she was loved, she would soon be home, and her heart was still beating.

 

**Beth**

 

She doesn't know how long has passed when they finally run out of formula - she doesn't worry about it, because Daggertooth seems to be getting what he needs from nursing, now. But it still makes her wonder how long it's been, and whether Daryl's still looking for her (of course he is) and if Lori is even still pregnant. She likes to think that they're together - Lori and Daryl. Possibly handling the familiar responsibilities of raising a newborn in the apocalypse. But she tries not to dwell on it. The rabbit always seems to know when she's thinking heavy thoughts, and the girl is more highly-strung than Moony herself.

She's calmed down in the woods, though. Moony can take her down to the forest floor and have her search for berries and mushrooms while she does the laundry, checks the snares. She's been teaching both girls how to do these things, but the rabbit is learning faster than Asskicker.  _That_ little girl is more interested in using her newly-developed motor skills to drive Moony  _craz_ _y_ , and though she's infinitely glad that the girl can now walk and run - an important skill in this new world - she often wishes she'd never taught her.

"Get her," she says sharply to the rabbit as Asskicker falls behind to look at a butterfly. Quick and proficient, the rabbit responds, taking the younger girl by the hand and pulling her closer to the pack. Moony takes both their hands and leads them back to the treehouse, sending up the rabbit before helping Asskicker to climb the ladder. In a few more weeks, she'll be able to do that on her own as well.

"But not yet," she murmurs, mind straying to the few places they'd been able to check out in the past few... Weeks? Days? It didn't matter anymore. Moony wondered if it was even worth it to move camp anymore. The treehouse was as safe as things got, hidden up in the canopy as it was. It was small and the wood was thin, but they'd been gathering blankets, pillows. Tarps. Anything to plug the spaces between the planks and keep the wind from getting inside. And aside from that, they'd found a bucket, which hung from a branch a few yards away from their home. Moony was able - and the rabbit was learning - to climb out the lone window and scramble over the roof to reach out with a long stick and draw the bucket close. Then, they did their business on the roof, and emptied the bucket far from camp when they were able to get away. It was an imperfect method, but better than having the bucket inside, or leaving the safety of the treehouse in the middle of the night. The rabbit still had to wake Moony to do her business, but at least they didn't have to put themselves in too much danger anymore.

The diapers were more of a problem. Both children were wearing cloth diapers, which needed to be washed after each use. If she'd only had one baby, it would've been enough. But with both children eating well, it was hard to keep enough in rotation to clothe them both at the same time. One or both of them often went without, and Beth was losing her patience trying to clean up after them. That was one of the reasons she thought about moving them. If they were somewhere with water close at hand, she could wash and dry diapers to her heart's content. Here, they could only pile up until morning - sometimes for days, if too many walkers were around.

Asskicker's increased mobility didn't help things, either. One day -  _soon_ \- Moony was sure the little girl would be climbing through the window without a care in the world, not knowing there was only a fall to certain death outside. She'd been trying, preemptively, to teach the girl this lesson, but she wasn't sure it was getting across. They  _had_ to move, if only to save them from themselves.

And she was  _pregnant_. Her stomach just got bigger every day. Soon, it just wouldn't be reasonable to keep on climbing that ladder with walkers snapping at her heels. They had to get out of there, and there was only one place she could think of that could suit her needs.

"Mountain Home," she said softly, looking out the window toward the mountains. She couldn't  _see_ them, of course. They were obscured by the same clouds that had sent her and the rabbit scurrying early back to camp. A storm was coming, but as soon as it passed, Moony would lead her young charges away from this place. If there was any good place to raise children in the apocalypse, it was Mountain Home. If Big was looking for her  _anywhere_ , he would finish his search at  _Mountain Home_.

They'd be together soon. For now, Moony plucked little Daggertooth from his laundry-basket bed and settled him close to her heart. He suckled hungrily at her breast, not caring when Asskicker jostled him as she shoved herself onto the rest of Moony's lap. The rabbit saw down on her other side, pulled blankets over them all. The tarp over the window fluttered, but the chill of the wind barely reached them in their nest. They were safe, they were warm, and they had hope on the horizon.

The storm would be over soon.

 


End file.
